LARISSA“I admit I jumped to conclusions,” Dr. Thorne said, adjusting his silver-rimmed glasses.He stood at the foot of the hospital bed, staring down at his metal clipboard as if the answers were magically written in the margins. The frantic panic from two nights ago had vanished, replaced by the sterile, boring reality of a standard medical ward.Sitting on the edge of the mattress, I swung my bare feet over the floorboards. The past forty-eight hours had been painfully uneventful. No shadow creatures haunted my dreams. No mysterious, agonizing cramps twisted my stomach. I just laid in a rigid bed, eating bland oatmeal and listening to the steady, monotonous beep of a heart monitor.“You told my mate our child was reacting to a magical plague,” I reminded him, raising an eyebrow. “You practically diagnosed me with a mystical curse.”A dark flush of embarrassment crept up the doctor’s neck. He cleared his throat, tapping his pen against the metal clip.“Yes, well, it was a high-stre
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